Nana's Fun Box
by Kar98k
Summary: When Corporal Steve Rogers, a shy cartographer and translator, was reassigned to serve in the 2nd Armored Division, he for sure didn't expect his commander to be a woman. And for sure he then didn't expect that woman to be an utter badass. Fic inspired by the 2014 movie "Fury".
1. Chapter 1

_This isn't happening._

Steve lost track of how many times he repeated that exact statement for the last two hours. Because of his bad health (the fact that he passed the medical back in the US was a miracle in itself) he was supposed only to be a cartographer and an interpreter at the back of the front line. Away from combat, away from the fear of death. At first, he wasn't too pleased – after all, he signed up for the Army to fight the good fight. However, during his training he realized even people like him were crucial to the war effort.

It seemed like, however, the behemoth of war had other plans for Corporal Steven Rogers.

Of course, he didn't take part in the first wave of the landings. He landed in France two days after June 6th, but at that time he already knew how costly the success of the landings was. He heard the stories circulating at the back lines of the front about the slaughterhouse at Omaha and Ponte du Hoc and the chaos behind enemy lines for those from the 101st and 82nd Airborne. There were only two things that didn't make him shiver from fear – the fact that Bucky was (most probably) still alive and that he himself would be rather away from all the fighting.

The first reason was shaky, but highly believable. The second reason, however, was pretty much dead in the water right now.

The day started normally for his whole small unit. Their job was to prepare maps for the troops and High Command, as well as translate captured German communications and the messages relayed by the French Resistance. After a small breakfast, Steve was busy with translating some of the reports from the French, concerning the movements of German units around Cherbourg. He was just finishing up on the third message, when her heard a rummage outside the door to the room. Suddenly the door swung open, and two people entered – Steve's Commanding Officer and an Army Colonel. Steve and the rest quickly stood to attention. Silence lingered for a second before the commanding officer spoke.

"Rogers, pack your things, you are leaving."

Steve looked at the officer, confused.

"ROGERS! Are you deaf?" the commander shouted, making Steve gasp.

"No, sir, yes, sir." He responded quickly, grabbing the satchel he stored under the table. "Just… what is happening?"

"You're being reassigned. You will know everything when you get there. Now move your ass and stop wasting my time, for fuck's sake." the Colonel spoke, anger fuming behind his voice.

It was when they loaded him onto a jeep that the Colonel gave him an envelope. He tore it open and looked at the paper inside.

It was a reassignment paper, stating that "Corporal Steven G. Rogers to be reassigned immediately to the 66th Tank Regiment of the 2nd Armored Division under the direct command of Sergeant M. Carter".

Steve was fairly conflicted during his whole ride to the staging area where the Division was stationed. While he knew that signing up usually meant that he would see combat, he still liked his stint at the back, not having to dig foxholes to shelter himself from artillery or to shoot people, even. Through ought his ride, he saw the whole scope of the war – from bombed out villages and towns to burned out hulks of German tanks, destroyed German field guns or never ending convoys of field ambulances moving away from the front line. He deduced, that the 2nd Armored needed reinforcements to prepare for the inevitable assault on Cherbourg and that was the main reason of his reassignment.

Soon, they reached the staging area of the regiment. It was nothing more than a field near a forest, fenced off with barbed wire. He quickly observed the surroundings – a few tents erected in the center, rows of barrels of fuel and crates with supplies scattered around, a field hospital to the left and a small, fenced off are for the Prisoners of War to the right. The jeep dropped him off right near the biggest of the tents – the one reserved for the regimental command, most likely. He grabbed his satchel, and moved into the tent. Inside, he quickly became lost in the sea of officers and NCOs, running around all over the place. Suddenly, he felt someone's hand grip his shoulder.

"You're looking for something, fella?"

Steve turned his head to look at the man speaking to him. He was fairly tall, with blond hair and a slightly untrimmed beard. Steve looked at his cap and saw a single gold stripe. He immediately saluted and stood to attention.

"Corporal Steven Rogers, sir. I've been reassigned here" he said, handing over the letter to the Lieutenant before him. The officer studied it for a while, before handing it back with a smirk on his face.

"I have to say, command does have a sense of humor. You're under Marge's orders, she's probably on the other side, in the motor pool. Go look for her there."

"Yes, sir" Steve responded, saluting back and moving towards the back. As he walked, he suddenly realized, that the Lieutenant used the word "she" to describe this supposed " ". He wasn't sure whether it was a mistake or not, but he didn't think too much of it. Soon, he found himself in the motor pool, staring at the tanks, trucks and armored cars that formed the backbone of the unit. He must have been looking for too long, since suddenly he heard a voice from behind. It was distinctively female and with a crisp British accent.

"What are you staring at, soldier?"

He quickly turned around to look at the source. Now in front of him stood a woman, crossing her arms at her waist. Her brown hair was wavy, but not too long, only extending up to the shoulders. Her face was slightly dirty, although Steve was still able to spot faint traces of a crimson lipstick on the lips. She was dressed in a standard uniform, although she draped a leather jacket with the unit's insignia sewn onto the sleeves over it, as the day had been fairly cold for June. She spoke to him again, the gaze from her brown eyes piercing him right into the core.

"What are you doing here? I don't have all the time in the world, you know, there is a war to win."

"Umm, I'm Corporal Rogers, I've been assigned here today." he said, extending the hand with the piece of paper. The woman quickly stepped forward and grabbed it from him. She studied it for a second, before muttering something that sounded like _For fuck's sake_ under her breath and giving the slip back to Steve. She spoke again, her tone tinted with annoyance.

"I'm Sergeant Margaret Carter, although you can call me Peggy. Now that we have introductory crap out of the way, tell me – how long are you in the army?"

"Seven weeks, ma'am" Steve answered, truthfully. She sighed quietly before continuing.

"Have you ever shot a gun?"

"Only in basic training ma'am, and I was a pretty lousy shot." Steve said, lowering his head. He looked up and saw a tinges of both disappointment and grief in Peggy's eyes.

"Ever seen a tank before?" she continued her interrogation, her voice more neutral now.

"Only from the outside, when they loaded us up in England."

She sighed again, this time a bit more loudly. She quickly pulled out a cigarette from her jacket pocket and lit it up with a lighter she produced in her other hand. She took a big whiff before releasing it and speaking again.

"Follow me, Steve. Can I call you Steve, actually?"

"I have no problem with that ma'am."

They walked for a moment, before they came up close to one of the tanks. Steve recognized it as an M4 Sherman, but this one looked different from the ones he saw in England – the gun barrel was longer and had a muzzle brake at the end, and it had an additional Browning M2 machine gun installed on the turret. The turret was a bit different from the ones he saw as well.

"This is your new home, Steve" Peggy said, breaking the silence between them. "The 'Nona's Fun Box'. Make yourself comfortable and meet the rest, but don't get too attached. I'll be back later."

She quickly turned around, heading towards the command tent. Steve stood there for a second, observing her. After that he moved closer to the tank. Suddenly, a head popped out of one of the hatches. It was of a moustachioed man, with short, dark hair and a face covered with grease and dirt. He turned his head, and when he saw Steve, he let out a whistle.

"Well, look who we have here! New meat!" he said loudly, climbing out of the tank and taking a few steps to be at arm's length from Steve. He extended his hand, as did Steve. After the handshake, the man spoke again.

"I'm Howard Stark, driver and mechanic extraordinaire! You must be the new bow gunner, right?"

"I guess so." Steve said, his voice far weaker than he expected. "Steve Rogers."

"Alright, Stevie, I could bore you here talking about how I keep this machine running 24/7 without everything going FUBAR on us, but there's still two people you have to meet. Follow me!" he said, gesturing enthusiastically.

Then two other heads popped up from the hatches in the turret. The two other crewmen quickly made their way down and introduced themselves.

"Edwin Jarvis, gunner." The taller man said, in a British accent similar to Peggy's.

"Dum Dum Dugan, loader" the second man said, sporting a healthy moustache and a slightly rounder physique.

"So," Howard spoke again "Did Peggy there give you any pointers on what to do now?"

"No, she had to go to the big tent" Steve answered. "She didn't say anything."

"Yes, there is a meeting there with the commanders, probably a new mission abounds." Jarvis interjected.

"That's good, actually." Dum Dum said, with a smirk. "I have to grab some more ammo and jerry cans for us. You two can handle Steve here just fine, right?"

"Sure thing, pal." Howard answered. "Stevie, grab a bucket of water and a washcloth, the guy before you left a bit of a mess after himself. You'll clean it up."

Steve sighed, but he didn't want to annoy his new crewmembers. Soon, he was back with a bucket and a fairly clean piece of cloth. He left the bucket on top of the hull, before descending into the tank with a moist cloth. Inside, he was instantly hit with a dizzying stench – a mix of cordite, unwashed bodies and stale air. He coughed a few times, feeling his stomach lurching up towards his throat. With a few deep breaths, he managed to calm the feeling down, as he set about cleaning. Soon, however, he realized what _exactly_ he was cleaning up. He suddenly smelled iron when he moved the cloth over a red stain. He knew that smell far too well.

 _Blood._

And then he spotted some small white fragments on the floor mixed a bit with something that looked like Jell-O.

 _Oh fuck._

Suddenly, he coughed up, feeling his stomach rebel against him again. Then, he heard Jarvis speak, his voice slightly distressed.

"Mr. Rogers, if you do wish to let your stomach evacuate, could you please do it outside?"

Steve didn't wait any longer – he lurched up through the hatch and to the side, letting his head slump down over the ground below him as he vomited. After what felt like an eternity, the stomach revolution stopped, and Steve slumped down, feeling dizzy and tired.

* * *

 _Fucking bollocks._

That was the first thought that ran through Peggy's mind as she exited the debrief. She was, of course, used to the fact that men wouldn't treat her as an equal and would much rather see her as a secretary in the tent and not a tank commander on the front line. But something about today's briefing infuriated her even more. It wasn't so much Dooley again, shitting his pants because he thought that the only tank the Germans used was a Tiger, but that smug little twat Thompson trying to chalk up her concerns about the proposed assault plan as her "lady's issues".

 _I didn't fight in Africa and Italy to be schooled by fuckwits that can't tell a barrel from the breech._ She thought, reaching for a small flask she filled with some bourbon that Stark managed to acquire from God knows where. She took a gulp, alcohol burning her throat and soothing her nerves. She looked at the flask again – a metal one, with the German eagle holding a swastika in his claws and an inscription below it.

 _MEINE EHRE HEIßT TREUE_

Peggy smirked. Maybe the honour of the first owner of the flask really was loyalty, but the fact that he was missing his head when Peggy found it in his pocket made any attempt at conversation rather difficult. She turned around to look at her tank just to see Steve lurch up and vomit onto the ground. She covered her face with her hand, scowling.

 _Bloody hell, why does it have to be so fucking difficult._

She didn't even know when she was back by the tank, looking up at Steve.

"I sincerely do hope so that it didn't start inside."

"No, Peggy, I managed to hold it" he answered, his voice weak and ragged.

"Good, Krzeminski made enough of a mess down there already, the bastard." She spoke again, her tone slightly annoyed again. "Let this be a lesson for you, Steve – don't get distracted when the hatches are open."

"I'll try to remember that." He answered, with a slight fear in his voice.

"Good." She responded. "Finish up and then we'll eat something. We'll be moving out at 0100 hours, so not a lot of rest tonight I'm afraid."

Steve heard Howard groan.

"Shut it, Stark." Peggy responded immediately. "Jarvis, how are we on ammo?"

"Fully stocked, on the gun and all the machine guns, Ms. Carter" he answered.

"Good. You'll teach Steve here how to use his gun when he cleans up, I have to go over the plan again" she said, sinking down in the seat inside the tank, with a clipboard on her lap.

"Of course, Ms. Carter" Jarvis replied.

He didn't know why, but Steve felt relief fill him. He didn't know what the future would bring, but now at least he had someone he could rely on.

And that was a feeling that soothed his nerves the most.


	2. Chapter 2

Boredom.

Yes, that's how Steve would describe the last few hours.

After his fairly ungraceful performance while scrubbing blood and brains out of the tank interior, the rest of the day was mainly filled with waiting. Of course, there was dinner (although Steve wondered whether anyone besides his new friends would use the word "dinner" to describe the meal) and Jarvis did, in fact, teach him how to use both the machine gun and his personal weapon, but outside of that the hours were mainly filled with tense preparations for the upcoming assault.

Just 10 minutes before the projected time of moving out, they were all back inside the tank. Peggy sat in her seat, finishing up the debriefing.

"The objective…" Peggy said that, in her no-nonsense tone while pointing at the map "… is Carentan. The 101st have captured it recently, but we know that the Germans are preparing a counterattack. The enemy forces are the rests of the 6th Parachute Regiment and the 17th SS Division, so expect heavy resistance."

Steve gulped loudly.

"You OK there, fella?" Howard asked.

"Yeah… It's just my close friend is with the 101st. Haven't heard of him since England, so…"

"He might be there." Peggy answered for him. "Although if I were you I wouldn't get my hopes up too much. The whole division got scattered badly, from what I have heard we're still finding some lone groups wandering around the whole front."

"What's his name, actually?" Dugan asked. "It would be useful when we ran into them, you know."

"James Barnes." Steve answered. "Although he hates it. For me, it's just Bucky."

"Bucky it is, then." Peggy surmised. Suddenly, the wireless sprung into life.

"Platoon, move out!"

"You heard it, chaps!" Peggy said, peeking her head out the hatch. "Let's go, Stark, I don't want to stay in this shitehole of a base any longer than I have to!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Howard said, cheerfully, as he started the engine. It roared loudly as Howard released the brake and the machine lurched forward. Soon, they left the base behind them, driving into the night. They weren't leading the column – it was Thompson's tank that did that – but Peggy didn't really mind. She had enough experience to know that being the leader simply made you an easier target.

Soon, Steve settled into the cruise as he scanned the surroundings. He could hear the roar of aircraft engines above and a distant thunder of explosions that lit up the night's sky.

"Seems like the flyboys are having some fun down there." Howard broke the silence.

"I would imagine so." Peggy answered.

* * *

The next few hours passed remarkably peacefully. Their tempo was slow, mainly because of the bad roads and the amount of destroyed and abandoned equipment littering the countryside. As morning dawned, Steve was already feeling exhausted by the long night. He felt his head slowly slump down and he might have fallen asleep right there and then, had it not been for an explosion coming from the front of the column. The sound was so loud and unexpected his head jolted upwards and to the right, hitting the open hatch. Steve winced – even though, as all of them, he had a tanker's helmet and goggles on his head, the hit was still fairly painful. The tank then halted, rocking forwards.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asked, perplexed and slightly scared.

"I'm trying to find out." Peggy answered, slightly annoyed, fumbling with the wireless.

"I think…" Howard started, before yawning and continuing "…someone has hit a mine."

"Bollocks!" Peggy exclaimed loudly, before letting out a groan.

"What has happened, Ms. Carter?" Jarvis asked, curious.

"Lieutenant's tank has hit a mine. They're OK, but the track has been blown off and they are blocking the way." she explained, annoyance even more pronounced.

"Told ya." Howard said to Steve, with a wink. "And let me guess now, Peggy, we're going to sit here like targets on a shooting range because Thompson will try to repair all that and won't agree to a bit of a push to the side?"

"Knowing that twat, sure, he will." Peggy answered.

* * *

The predictions of Peggy and Howard were mostly correct. While Thompson did, in fact, try to convince the rest that the damage was minor, Peggy knew his tank wouldn't go anywhere without the help of the Engineers. After some deliberation, Thompson begrudgingly agreed and let his tank be pushed to the side to make way for the rest. Now Peggy's tank moved up to the second spot in the column, right behind Sergeant Ramirez. The unit moved on, leaving the stricken machine behind.

"I still can't believe how stubborn that prick Thompson is." Peggy said, taking a sip from her flask. "One third of his left suspension is gone and he has the audacity to say it's just a minor dent. What a cunt." The last sentence was punctuated by a spit.

Steve smirked. While he only knew Peggy Carter for less than a day, he was starting to like her no-nonsense demeanor and her blatant disregard for any conventions.

"As they say, you can lead a horse to water…" Howard started, but then stopped talking. Steve looked forward, but most of his view was obscured by the leading tank in the column. He noted, however, that the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions were growing louder and louder by the second. Suddenly, he heard Peggy through the intercom.

"Howard, hard left. We have contacts up front."

"Yes, ma'am" he responded. Steve immediately felt the tank turn from the road onto the field. Soon, the column dispersed onto a wide front, with infantry halftracks following behind.

"Jarvis, Steve, be ready and eyes peeled, there are friendlies out there. Dugan, standby on the ammo. Button up."

Steve quickly reached up and closed the hatch, sinking inside the tank. He quickly adjusted the periscope so he could have a better view of what was ahead. He quickly glanced around and saw that everyone's faces were beaming with concentration and determination. He must have been looking for too long, because suddenly he felt a nudge on the shoulder.

"Look ahead, for fuck's sake, concentrate!" It was Howard, his voice full of annoyance.

Steve quickly composed himself, reloading the machine gun and gripping it tightly to still his shaking hands. He was sweating profusely and felt his heart would beat out of his chest soon. Just as he was thinking about all the bad scenarios, the tank crested a small hill.

What Steve saw could only be described as chaos. To the right, he saw several vehicles, the black crosses identifying them as German. These were mostly halftracks, with soldiers bunched around them, firing at the Americans to the left. Suddenly, he saw a German tank move up from behind the trucks. Fortunately for them, the Germans haven't spotted them yet. The intercom suddenly burst into life.

"Jarvis, StuG, 550 meters, 2 o'clock!" Peggy shouted.

"Roger, eyes on." Jarvis answered calmly.

"Dugan, load AP, Howard, halt!" The tank stopped abruptly.

"Clear!" Dugan shouted, completing the loading.

"Fire!" Peggy exclaimed. The sound of the main gun firing and the jolt of recoil felt as one for Steve. He saw the shell hit the enemy tank flush on the side, a pillar of flame rising upwards. He watched in trance as a German tanker managed to exit, his whole body on fire. The German fell down to the ground, rolling around in the grass. His trance was broken by a swift kick to the back.

"Rogers, fire your fucking gun! Do your job!" Peggy shouted.

Steve quickly composed himself and pulled the trigger. The first burst went nowhere near the enemy, but the next few ones were right on target. The Germans began a hasty retreat, but soon they were dropping like flies from the concentrated fire. Steve kept pressing the trigger as the tank started moving again, the bursts from the machine gun mauling the escaping enemies. Peggy also joined in on the action, firing long bursts over the ditch where some of the Germans were hiding in with the machine gun mounted on the rim of her hatch. The cannon fired again, the shell hitting one of the halftracks, setting it on fire. Suddenly Steve heard a scream through the gunfire, followed by a crunching noise and the feeling of the tank rising up slightly, as if it had hit a bump. Soon, Steve spotted some of the survivors that didn't manage to get away leave the ditch by the road with their hands held high up.

"Don't shoot, they might be useful, even though they are SS." Peggy said.

The gunfire died down and was replaced by loud cheers coming from the paratroopers. The tank stopped and the hatches were quickly opened, to let fresh air in. It was then that Steve spotted how badly his hands were shaking. His breaths became ragged as he suddenly found himself in a middle of a coughing fit, his heart hammering against his ribs. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Steve, are you alright?" Peggy asked, her voice filled with worry.

He coughed up a few times before turning his head to face Peggy.

"Yeah." he answered, his voice ragged. "It's just… I never…"

"I understand." Peggy answered, her voice reassuring. "It's never easy. And I'm sorry for kicking you earlier on."

"No offense taken, Peggy." Steve responded. "I froze up, you kickstarted me back. Nothing wrong with that."

"Well, I didn't have much time to think and a boot to the back works most of the time."

"I'd assume it does." That statement earned him a chuckle from Peggy.

"Holy shit!"

The loud shout caused both Steve and Peggy to turn their heads. What Steve saw immediately filled him with relief. In front of him was Bucky Barnes himself – with a beard and slightly dirty, but it really was him in the flesh. Steve quickly jumped out of the tank and sprinted a few meters, hugging Bucky.

"God damn it, Buck, you're alive." he said, breaking the hug.

"You ever doubted that?" he answered, with a smirk on his face.

"Not really, but the lack of letters was disconcerting enough."

"I was too busy looking for my unit and then killing Nazis, plus, the postal services here are a bit primitive." Steve chuckled as Bucky finishes the sentence.

"OK, enough about me, how the hell did you end up here in a tank with such a lady?"

"I got reassigned." Steve answered, truthfully. "And the lady here is my commander."

"Look at you, from a pencil pusher to a true American warrior!"

Steve chuckled but didn't respond. An awkward moment of silence later he heard Howard.

"Steve, mount up, we're moving on!"

"I gotta go Buck, duty calls." he said, his voice tainted with regret.

"Just don't get yourself killed." Bucky responded, his voice serious.

"You too.". They hugged again and parted ways – Bucky turned back to his paratrooper comrades, while Steve went back into the tank. Inside, he relaxed against the seat, listening into the hum of the engine, as sleepiness overwhelmed him.

"So he's alive after all." he heard Peggy say as his eyelids slowly closed.

"He certainly is." Steve responded, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Steve, wake up."

Peggy's voice flowed into his ears, slowly forcing his eyes open. He looked around, still a bit groggy.

"How long…"

"Over 10 hours." Peggy said, smiling. "It's morning already. I hope you rested well. Any dreams?"

Steve moved a bit, now sitting more upright in his seat. He looked around and saw that Jarvis and Dugan were not inside the tank, while Howard was slumped forward, snoring quietly.

"No, maybe for the better. Where's the rest?"

"I guess so." Peggy said, with a quiet sigh, before continuing. "I sent the two to get some supplies for us before we move out."

"New mission?" Steve asked immediately.

"No, we're just regrouping to await further orders. God knows where they send us next, to be honest. Heard rumours about Cherbourg, but nothing more than that."

"It would make sense."

"From my experience, nothing in war ever makes sense." Peggy retorted. Silence blanketed them for a moment, before Peggy spoke again.

"Do you have anyone back home to go back to?"

"Not really." Steve answered, lowering his head. "Dad died before I was born, mom not soon after. And girls don't want to date someone they can step on." he chuckled "Bucky is the only link I have to home."

"He must mean a lot to you."

"Yes, he does. And how about you?"

Peggy didn't answer immediately, reaching for a cigarette and lighting it.

"There is a reason I'm here and not back in England." she said, inhaling the smoke. "I don't remember my father, he died when I was a toddler. The rest of the family helped, but then the war came around. I lost my mother and my siblings in the Blitz. After that there was no reason to stay back, so I enlisted. Cue Africa, Italy, and now I'm here." Steve was sure he could see her fighting back tears. However, they didn't drop.

"Must have been hell for you." he said, sympathetically.

"The first year or so was." she said, puffing out smoke. "After that you move on, focus on what the future brings."

Their discussion was then interrupted by a loud banging noise to the side and Dugan entering the tank with a crate in his hands.

"I'm back, fellas!" Dugan exclaimed, loudly. Howard suddenly sprang back into a seating position, groaning.

"God damn it, why do you have to always be so loud?" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.

"I managed to snag some HVAP rounds from the Tank Destroyer battalion, I think I deserve some recognition here!" Dugan retorted, his voice happy.

"Good job." Peggy said. "Mr. Jarvis?"

"Rations and water, as you requested Ms. Carter. We still have enough fuel, so I didn't inquire too much about it."

"Fine." She took the last whiff from the cigarette and squashed it against the turret wall. "Load everything in here and then take positions. We're still waiting for concrete orders."

"You think we'll meet some Krauts today?" Howard asked.

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" Peggy answered.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were back on the road. The engineers managed to somehow fix Thompson's tank, so it returned to the lead position in the column. The drive took them towards Cherbourg, confirming Peggy's speculations. She knew well how badly the Allies needed to capture a sea port on the French coast capable of unloading tons of supplies from hundreds of merchant ships. Cherbourg ticked all those boxes. The ride up to that point was fairly uneventful, save for columns of French civilians moving deeper into Allied lines, trying to escape the horrors of war. It was close to 3 PM when the calm was shattered.

Suddenly, the tank directly behind Peggy's exploded. Its turret popped off the hull like a champagne cork and then slammed down on the ground upside down. Flames shot up from the hole in the hull as the wreck lost momentum and stopped. Immediately, Peggy felt their tank swerve of the road into the bushes nearby.

"What the fuck was that?" Dugan asked, terrified.

"I didn't see it… wait, I have it. AT gun, three o'clock, 700 meters".

"Roger, traversing" Jarvis replied, his tone calm.

Peggy then saw a flash from the barrel of the enemy gun. The shell fell short, digging itself into the ground.

"Load HE!" Peggy commanded.

"Clear!" Dugan shouted, pushing the shell into the breech.

"Fire!" Peggy shouted, louder than she expected. She observed as the gun recoiled and the shell whizzed through the air, hitting the enemy emplacement. A large explosion confirmed that the hit was successful.

"Target destroyed." Suddenly, Peggy heard bullets whizzing over her head, coming from the front of the column. She saw tracers flying from both sides, and soon both tanks that were ahead of hers in the column fired their main guns in unison.

"We have infantry to the front. HE, again. Steve, get ready." Peggy said, as she prepared her own machine gun. When the Sherman joined the other two, she saw what the fuss was about. In the field stood an abandoned tank, a Panzer IV with two holes visible in the front armor. Around it were dozens of foxholes, from which the Germans fired back, although rifle bullets could only chip off the paint off a Sherman. Suddenly, one of the soldiers sprang from the foxhole, holding a long, metal tube propped on his shoulder.

"Panzerschreck!" Peggy yelled, pressing the trigger on her machine gun. The bullets cut the soldier in half, but before that he managed to press the trigger. The rocket whizzed a meter to the left of the tank before exploding after hitting a tree. The loss seemed to finally crumble the enemy's morale, as some sprang from the foxholes trying to escape, only to be cut down by the concentrated Allied firepower. Others waited a moment before raising their hands and yelling loudly.

 _Nicht schießen! Bitte, nicht schießen!_

Peggy gestured at them to come closer, while at the same time grabbing her personal weapon and aiming it at the approaching Germans.

"If any of them tries to shoot or do something stupid, shoot them, Steve." She said, her tone calm.

A moment later, the new prisoners of war formed a line. They were all a miserable sight – dirty, with bags under their eyes, their head hanging low. Peggy climbed down from the tank and moved up to the one in the officers uniform – a captain, by the look of his stripes. She noted the Iron Cross hanging on his neck and a few other pins on his jacket.

 _Von welchem Division sind Sie, Hauptmann?_ She asked, her tone leaving no room for objection.

The officer didn't respond at first, before levelling his gaze with Peggy's eyes. Behind his eyes she saw nothing but hatred and fire.

 _Ich will dir nichts sagen, verdammte Ami Hure._ He spat out, hatred palpable in his words.

Peggy didn't answer. Instead, she punched him with full force, smirking slightly when she heard his nose crunch under her fist. The officer fell down, clutching the bleeding body part. The rest of the prisoners shuddered.

 _Ich bin aus England, Dummkopf._ She said, punctuating the last two words. She aimed the Thompson at the rest, which caused them to stumble slightly and raise their hands higher. She spoke again.

 _Kann jemand von euch auf meine Frage antworten?_

 _Wir sind aus der 709er Infanterie Division,_ spoke the youngest looking German. He couldn't have been older than 17. _Wir hatten Befehle, nach Cherbourg sich zu bewegen, aber wir sind von Flugzeuge angegriffen worden. Dann haben wir hier die Stellungen vorbereitet, aber jetzt haben Sie uns._ He ended his little speech with a shrug of his shoulders.

 _Danke sehr._ Peggy answered. _Alle, komm mit mir. Sie auch, Hauptmann._

The officer stood up, defeated. He quickly joined the rest of the group as Peggy escorted them back to the road.

Steve watched the whole spectacle with his eyes wide open. His respect for Peggy rose even higher, and seeing her knock down a smug German officer was oddly satisfying. Howard must have seen his slightly sheepish expression, as he nudged him lightly on the shoulder.

"Enjoyed the view?" he asked, smirking.

"Most definitely." Steve answered, smirking himself now.

* * *

A/N - Translations for the German phrases:

 _Nicht schießen! Bitte, nicht schießen! - Don't shoot! Please, don't shoot!_

 _Von welchem Division sind Sie, Hauptmann? - From what division are you, Captain?_

 _Ich will dir nichts sagen, verdammte Ami Hure. - I won't tell you anything, you fucking American whore._

 _Ich bin aus England, Dummkopf. - I'm from England, idiot._

 _Kann jemand von euch auf meine Frage antworten? - Can anyone of you answer my question?_

 _Wir sind aus der 709er Infanterie Division_. _Wir hatten Befehle, nach Cherbourg sich zu bewegen, aber wir sind von Flugzeuge angegriffen worden. Dann haben wir hier die Stellungen vorbereitet, aber jetzt haben Sie uns. - We're from the 709th Infantry Division. We had orders to move towards Cherbourg, but we were attacked by aircraft. Then we prepared the defences here, and now you got us._

 _Danke sehr._ _Alle, komm mit mir. Sie auch, Hauptmann. - Thank you very much. Everyone, come with me. You too, Captain._


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours later the unit reached a new camp, where it would rest for the night. The prisoners of war captured during the fight were taken away to the back, after it became clear that they really have said all they knew. At the end of the day the crew settled in for the night – with no clear orders, they were supposed to wait until dawn for further instructions. The directive was met with a nod of approval – it meant they had time for at least a quick wash and a supper before catching up on some sleep. When the sun came down, a strange peace blanketed the camp. Normally, the quiet would be broken by either the distant hum of bomber engines above or the low thumps of artillery explosions that also lit up the horizon. This time, Steve thought he might finally have a calm night on his hands.

That was, until he woke up at 2 AM from a particularly terrible nightmare. He glanced around, terrified still, but soon calmed down as he saw the silhouettes of his crewmates on the ground next to the tank. Suddenly, however, he heard a whiz growing louder and louder until it turned into an explosion somewhere to the left of him. Before he even fully registered what was happening, he heard Peggy's shout, raising above the explosions.

"Incoming! Inside! Now!"

Steve turned around and tried to start a sprint towards the tank. However, his legs seemed to have a mind of their own as he remained frozen in the spot. He felt sweat running down his spine and his hands started shaking again. Even before he thought of how bad he was scared for his life, he felt a pair of strong arms lift him up and throw him on top of the tank. The pain caused by his body being slammed against the metal seemed to have done the trick, as it started listening to him again. He lowered himself inside and closed the hatch, only now noting his severely elevated heartbeat and ragged breaths. He could feel the whole machine shake from the explosions, but soon felt it move forwards. Then, he saw Peggy's hand touch his shoulder.

"Steve, are you alright?" Peggy's said, her voice tinted with urgency.

He didn't answer immediately, but already felt his fear and anxiety subside a bit. He spoke after a few seconds, his voice hoarse and throaty.

"Yeah, yea, I'm OK."

"Sorry for throwing you so unceremoniously, but it seemed like you froze." Peggy continued.

"Like hell he did." Howard chimed in. "Krauts are bombarding us hard and he stood there like a statue."

"I'm sorry." Steve said.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Peggy said, her tone full of confidence. "When I first found myself on the receiving end of an artillery strike I curled up in a ball. You'll get used to it soon enough."

"I do hope so." He answered, quieter than usual.

"Anything on the wireless, Ms. Carter?" Jarvis asked.

Peggy fumbled a bit with the receiver before listening in for a moment.

"Seems like there is a local counterattack going on 2 kilometres to the west…" she said, stopping to hear the message better. "Mostly infantry, but they say they saw tanks as well."

"I think we shouldn't move" Howard said "Thompson will skin us alive if we disobey an order."

"Howard, I do think that an oncoming German counterattack right on our doorstep is a fairly big concern that should be addressed, isn't it?" Peggy retorted, completely deadpan.

Howard did not answer that. Instead, he quickly drove to the road and turned westwards. After just a few moments they reached the front line, marked by a line of hastily dug out trenches. From her position Peggy saw that the fighting was still raging on, as evidenced by explosions kicking up dirt near the foxholes and the green and red tracer rounds cutting into the night. It was still fairly dark, but soon the whole area lit up in a white, chemical glow as a flare shot up the sky. It was then that everything became clear. The Germans were trying to punch through, but the assault seemed to have stalled – Peggy could see silhouettes on the ground trying to crawl forwards, stopping for a moment and then resuming their movements, some of them hiding behind the armored cars also trying to advance. She saw muzzle flashes from the machine guns coming from a hedgerow behind the advancing infantry and she could bet a few dollars that the barn behind the hedge shielded the mortar emplacements.

It was time to spring into action.

"Dugan, load HE. Mr. Jarvis, priority on the armoured cars, later on the muzzle flashes. Howard, slow forwards."

"Yes, ma'am" the three men answered, in unison. Steve gripped the machine gun tighter, and soon pressed the trigger, sending a long burst over the heads of the Germans. While it did not hit them, it made sure they would not try to stand up in the foreseeable future.

"Clear!" Dugan shouted.

"Fire!". The gun recoiled and Steve saw the armored car closer to his left explode into a fireball. Suddenly, the whole tank started to shake as a loud sound roared through it. It was as if someone started hitting the outside of the machine with a large sledgehammer. He readjusted the periscope to see that the second armored car was returning fire. A few seconds later, it also turned into a flaming wreck. Steve turned his attention to the hedgerow, spraying long bursts into it, guiding his shots as close to the muzzle flashes as possible. Soon enough, a part of the bush exploded, a fountain of dirt marking the spot where the shell landed. The enemy soldiers quickly caught wind of what was going on and started a hasty retreat towards the wooden barn. The ones still left on the field found themselves surrounded by the that finally found courage to move out of the foxholes and mount a counterattack.

"Press on, we need to push them back!" Peggy shouted, trying to muffle the sounds of gunfire and the roar of the engine with her voice.

"Shall I shoot at the barn, Ms. Carter?" Jarvis asked.

"Of course!" she retorted. "Load smoke for that one, Dugan."

"Smoke up!" he shouted, pushing the shell into the breech.

"Fire!" She saw the shell pierce the wooden wall and bury itself inside. Suddenly, the door opened and a few Germans rushed out, their whole bodies on fire. Their screams of pain somehow managed to trump the gunfire and explosions. Steve felt his stomach wrench and decided to take matters into his own hands. A few short bursts later, the screaming stopped and an eerie silence blanketed the area.

"Should have let them burn." Howard said, with slight disappointment in his voice.

Neither Steve nor any other crewmember responded to that statement.

* * *

"What you did, Carter, was irresponsible!"

It was already noon when Peggy found herself back in the hastily built command tent, facing Lieutenant Thompson alone. Of course she knew that her unplanned excursion out of the camp wouldn't go unnoticed for long. She was also preparing herself for the omission of her tank from the after-action report and the glory being assigned to someone else.

She also anticipated that Thompson would be mad at her. And he for sure was. His face was a shade redder than usual and his shouting was so loud Peggy bet it could be heard in London.

"With all due respect, sir…" she started, but stopped when she saw Thompson raise his hand.

"Stop, just stop with the excuses, Marge." he said. Peggy bit the inside of her cheek to hide the wince. "You think you can just not give a fuck about orders. That you are in the center of the world and you can simply ignore everything and everyone."

"That's not…"

"Shut up!" he shouted, before collecting himself and returning to his normal voice. "This is your last warning, Marge. One more disobedience and you're landing right in front of a court martial. Do you understand?"

Under her stiff upper lip demeanour, Peggy was fuming. _This rookie gobshite has the balls to treat me like a pushover_. she thought. She knew, however, that at that time any resistance was ultimately pointless – regardless of what she achieved last night, her fate now rested in the hand of a jealous and far too cocky Thompson, who would most likely see her either back in England or tied to a pole with a blindfold over her eyes, with a firing squad on the other side.

"Yes, sir." she said, her tone icy.

"Dismissed." he barked out.

She wasted no time in leaving the tent, stopping only to take a swig from the flask and light up a cigarette. She quickly went back to her tank, sitting down on her seat with a loud sigh. Inside was only Steve, busy cleaning his weapon.

"How bad was it?" Steve asked, concerned, looking up and behind.

"I'm still here and I haven't been arrested, demoted or shot, so not that bad." Peggy retorted, taking a large whiff and soon puffing the smoke out. "He did threaten me with a court martial if I disobey orders the next time. Nothing I can do about him being jealous of what we achieved last night, I guess." She ended that statement with a chuckle.

"Honestly, I'm amazed." Steve said. Peggy saw a mix of admiration and respect in his eyes. "I mean, you endure so much shit from the higher-ups and you still don't quit."

"I'm not in it for glory, medals or approval." Peggy said. "And, most importantly, I know my value. Anyone else's opinion doesn't really matter. It's their fault that they can't see me for whom I really am, but I expect to make them see."

"We're not that different, you know." Steve retorted. Seeing Peggy's raised eyebrow, he continued. "Everyone ignored me and looked down on me as well. They all thought I was a pushover. Weak, scrawny kid that is always in trouble because he doesn't know better. I guess I kind of proved them wrong, didn't I?" he ended, with a smirk.

"I guess so." Peggy retorted and nodded at the disassembled gun in front of Steve. "You want to finish that today or not?"

"Yes, sorry." he said, returning to the task at hand.

When he turned his head around, Peggy felt a smile creeping up her lips. Indeed, she suddenly felt that Steve indeed shared some experiences with her. She was a woman, so of course men looked down on her as "the weaker sex". Steve was a man, but his physical shape meant he was an easy target, just like she was. The thought of that bond between them suddenly made her warm in a place she thought had frozen over ages ago.

Her heart.


	5. Chapter 5

As Steve woke up in the morning, silence blanketed the base. While it surely was comforting, as it meant no imminent danger, it also managed to sent a tiny shiver down Steve's spine. The thought of being so close to the front line juxtaposed with the calm morning was unusual to say the least. He quickly pulled himself out of the sleeping bag and stretched lazily, noting soreness in his throat and a rumble in his stomach. He quickly reached for his canteen, unscrewed the top and took a large gulp of water. The liquid soothed his throat a bit, so he then opened the pack of crackers from his ration. Just as he was biting into one, he heard an explosion in the distance – not too close, but not far away either.

It was then that he suddenly felt someone pushing him down on his stomach. The mystery person held him face down to the ground, with a hand on his shoulder and a knee at the lower back. Steve quickly turned his head to the side and in the corner of his eye saw Peggy towering over him. He could see determination and focus on her face, her muscles tense and ready to pounce on anyone who posed danger to her or him. The M1911 pistol in her hand reinforced that statement even further. While Steve did certainly appreciate the protective sight of Peggy, the knee digging into his lower back started to become quite uncomfortable. He groaned at the pain and tried to wriggle himself out, but that only resulted in Peggy gripping him harder. He hissed and winced, and suddenly felt her grip relax.

"Oh gosh, Steve, I'm so sorry." he heard Peggy say, her tone apologetic. "I heard an explosion and I thought..."

"No hard feelings." Steve responded, still slightly awestruck. "It scared me a bit as well."

He quickly stood up on his legs, wiping dirt off his uniform. To his disappointment his crackers ended up spread all over the ground.

"Are you alright?" she asked, glancing over him, checking for any cuts or bruises.

"I'm fine, maybe next time just tell when you're about to pin me to the ground. Oh, and you owe me those crackers too." he answered, with a smirk, pointing to the food spread near his boots.

"Look at you, the king of snark." she said, smirking herself.

"I'm learning from the best." he answered, chuckling.

Peggy smacked his shoulder lightly.

"I hate those things, so don't worry, I'll give you some later. Now, we still have at least an hour until we need to be ready. I'm going to nap for a bit, how about you?" she asked.

"Nap sounds like a good idea." he answered, slowly creeping back into his sleeping bag.

* * *

Two hours later, the regiment hit the road again. The Allied advance on Cherbourg was gaining more and more momentum, with the Germans retreating to the fortress bombarded from sea, land and air. Peggy knew herself how it was to be on the receiving side of such an onslaught, and repaying that dubious favor filled her with a weird sense of justice. Passing through the countryside, she saw how devastating their advance was. The sides of the road were littered with abandoned horse carts, trucks and cars. The fields were full of craters left by artillery shells and bombs and there wasn't a village nor a town with all buildings intact. Looking up to scan the horizon she saw hundreds of contrails, marking the sky like a giant spider web.

 _Interesting how something so sinister can look so beautiful_. she thought to herself. She knew how it was, to fear the black shadows in the sky dropping death onto the land below. Her thoughts were then interrupted by a loud roar of an aircraft engine, as she saw two P-47 airplanes fly low over the column, heading towards their objective.

"Majestic sons of bitches, aren't they?" Howard chimed in.

 _Cry Havoc and let slip the birds of war._ Peggy thought.

* * *

Half an hour later, the destination of their journey felt further than ever. Peggy was, frankly, bored. Aside from Howard, who had his hands full driving, the rest of the crew was mainly milling about, trying not to fall asleep again.

Then, Peggy felt that something was not quite right. At first, she couldn't exactly put a finger on what was wrong, but throught her years on the front line she learned to trust her instincts as much as her senses. She cast a glance around the scenery – to the left, a ruined house with a forest wall some 200 meters away, to the right a field with a large apple orchard hidden behind a high hedgerow. Even before she could examine it further, she saw a muzzle flash from behind the vegetation. She heard an explosion to the front of the column and saw one of the tanks swerve to the right, its engine engulfed in flames. She saw men climbing out of the turret, falling down on the ground and rolling away from the burning machine.

"Contact, 2 o'clock!" Peggy shouted, closing the hatch.

"What is it?" Steve asked, with fear in his voice.

"I don't know yet. Howard, get us out of the road!"

"You got it!" he responded, immediately turning the hull to the right and pressing hard on the gas pedal. Peggy, looking through her periscope, saw another flash coming from the same position.

"Dugan, smoke!"

"Clear!"

"Jarvis, on target?" she asked, shouting over the commotion.

"Target is moving... oh God."

Peggy immediately looked back. What she saw made her blood run colder.

It was a Tiger. Moving slowly forwards, turning the turret to lock onto another target.

The infamous war machine, the behemoth of war that consumed everything in its path.

Now, however, was no time for fear. It was time to fight, bite back and strike hard.

"Fire!" Peggy shouted. The gun recoiled and the brass casing of the shell slammed back onto the floor. The shell hit right on target – while it would not outright destroy it, it would at least blind the crew for a moment.

"Howard, flank it from the right!" she said, as she saw a shell fired from behind harmlessly ricochet of the Tiger's front.

"On it!"

"Load, AP! Jarvis, fire only on my mark!"

"Roger, Miss Carter!" he exclaimed, his voice pitch elevated.

The smoke cloud covered the enemy tank fully by now. It was both a blessing and a curse – the Germans couldn't see where the Allies were, but the reverse of that situation was also true. Seconds seemed to turn into minutes as Howard maneuvered the Sherman to get the best possible position.

Suddenly, the Tiger was visible again, piercing through the smoke like a phantom.

Sideways on to Peggy's tank gun, completely at her mercy.

"FIRE!" she shouted, so loud that she saw Dugan wince.

She watched as the red tracer of the shot connected with the side armor, penetrating it. Immediately after, flames shot up from the top of the enemy tank. A second or two later, the machine exploded, the turret lifting upwards and slamming down to the ground.

"Target destroyed." Peggy exclaimed, suddenly remembering how to breathe again.

The answer to that statement was only heavy breathing. Then, she heard Howard sigh loudly.

"Fuck me, we got ourselves a Tiger." he exclaimed, sounding tired.

"Indeed we did." Peggy retorted, reaching for her flask and taking a sip. "Now get us back in the column, will you?"

"Sure thing." he said, maneuvering their own metal beast to get back where they were supposed to be.

* * *

Riding back to the column, Peggy scanned it too see how big the losses were. She saw one tank still burning and another one directly behind it with a hole in the side of the turret. Outside of that, she noted no other immediate losses. She felt mildly proud of herself – while losing two tanks was an issue now, they would get reinforced. A loss of a Tiger for the Germans stung far more than a loss of two Shermans for the Allies. The tank soon got back to the spot in the column. The crew relaxed, only to be startled by a banging noise to the side. Peggy sighed quietly and peeked out of the turret.

Outside, she saw Thompson. At first, she was certain he would launch into a long tirade on how reckless and irresponsible she was. However, as she scanned his face, she noted a faint smile on his lips.

"Just want to say thanks." he said, sounding at least slightly genuine. "For saving our asses, Carter."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant." she answered, her tone neutral and stiff. "Anything else?"

"Just be ready to move. That's all." he said, and turned back to his tank, his head lowered.

"Did I just hear what I heard?" Howard asked, his face exclaiming disbelief. "Did Lieutenant Asshole just thank you?"

"It does seem like it." Peggy answered, looking at Steve. He was smiling from ear to ear.

She smiled back at him, when she heard a whistle.

"All right, let's go." she said, preparing for another leg of the journey.


	6. Chapter 6

Cherbourg, along with the whole Cotentin Peninsula, fell on the 29th of June.

Peggy's reaction to the news that the Germans have surrendered was twofold. She was both parts relived and uncertain – relieved that they achieved their objective and uncertain of what was about to come. The news from other sectors were slightly less positive – even though the British and the Canadians were making steady progress, Caen still remained in German hands, which meant the prospect of the fast capture of Paris was still far, far away. For now, they got withdrawn for a while to rest, awaiting what was to come.

The first few days of their leave were mainly spent on resting. A near month of non-stop combat took it's toll, especially on Steve, who, unlike the rest of the crew, did not see war before Normandy. The crew got quartered in an abandoned house in a small village – one of the few not scarred by artillery or bombs. While there was only one bed (that the crew decided to give to Peggy, even though she protested about it, calling it "excessive"), they were all already used to sleeping on unusual surfaces. So, while Peggy usually rested in the bed, Steve occupied the couch while the rest made use of either armchairs or the carpeted floor. And while the couch was quite comfortable, the nightmares that invaded Steve's dreams did not help at all to make him relaxed. He quickly found out a way to keep himself calm, however – sketching.

Steve always had a knack for arts. If not for his family situation and the Depression, he imagined he might have made a career out of it. Thanks to the military, his drawing skills and an admirably steady hand soon became useful as he soon lost track of the many maps he had to carefully copy or recreate. In his free time, he usually sketched things he remembered or what he saw in his surroundings. Soon, his pad started filling up with drawings, picturing his journey.

It was during one of such calm evenings that he found himself flipping through his works. They went back to his days in the bot camp, his journey from the US to England, his arrival to France and so on. Soon enough, he was looking at the sketches from his time on the front line – these were mainly drawings of different tanks, trucks, armored cars and even some aircraft, some drawings reflecting the landscape. However, he soon found a common denominator in all the pages he filled up since his reassignment.

 _Peggy._

It wasn't like he ever asked her to pose for him. He felt that proposition would be far too forward, and had already imagined Peggy shooting him down. He resorted to sketching her either from memory, or while glancing quickly while she wasn't looking. His "portraits" (he would hesitate to call them that had he been asked about them, though) showed her differently every time – sleeping inside the tank, punching someone in the face or looking into the distance. Some of them were not finished, some were just studies of her face, her lips or her hair. Steve soon felt the butterflies in his stomach fluttering violently. He couldn't lie to himself – he had a crush on Peggy Carter. A hopeless one at that – which woman of the caliber of Peggy Carter would chose him instead of someone far more attractive than him? Suddenly, his mind filled with images of her rejecting him. Even though these were merely the products of his imagination and anxiety, they felt painful. It was as if someone was stabbing him right in the heart with an icicle and then twisting it, deepening the wound. He felt tears slowly flowing to his eyes as he sighed deeply, nestling himself against the pillow. As he closed his eyes, different images started flooding his mind. It was as if he was trying to erase the painful ones with the hopeful ones, as he imagined him and Peggy together – holding hands, smiling, kissing...

* * *

Peggy woke up abruptly, breathing heavily. She didn't remember the nightmare, but the fact that she was fairly disheveled and sweaty meant that the dream wasn't a nice one. He took in her surroundings for a moment, before lifting herself off the bed. She knew that she would have problems falling asleep again, so she decided to check on her crew. As she went into the spacious ling room, she saw them all in the dim light of the candles – Steve nestled into the couch, Howard and Jarvis sprawled on the armchairs and Dugan snoring lightly on the floor. Then, a small detail caught her attention. One of Steve's arms was hanging off the couch and she saw something that looked like a flip pad under his fingers. She moved quietly towards the couch. She slowly lifted Steve's arm and put it around his stomach. He fidgeted slightly, but didn't wake up. Her attention then switched from Steve himself to the flip pad. She carefully picked it up, smoothing the page.

"Oh." she said quietly, as she saw what was on the page. It was divided in half – to the top there was a drawing of their tank in battle. Below, however, under a heavy line, there was a drawing of her. A full portrait of her from the neck up, remarkably accurate and lifelike. She wasn't an artist herself, but just by looking at it she saw how much effort must have been put into it. She started to flip the pages and soon she felt her insides heat up as she saw more sketches of her. Each of them different, but all beautiful in their own right.

The sights of both Steve sleeping peacefully and the sketches in his notebook had a profound effect on her. Outside of the fire burning in her stomach, she felt her cheeks go hotter and hotter. She put the flip pad on Steve's lap and quietly ran to the bathroom. She looked at the mirror and saw that her cheeks were bright pink with a blush. She quickly splashed some cold water from the bucket on her face and gripped the edges of the sink, breathing heavily, calming her racing heart. After a while, her heartbeat returned to normal, as she strode back to the bedroom. As she laid down, she thought about Steve. How he charmed her from the get go by not treating her like an object, by being respectful and humble. How his presence around her always filled her with a bit more joy than usual. How he made her feel things she thought she would never feel again. Maybe even too humble sometimes, but Peggy thought of it more like a nice change of pace from the usual treatment she got from other men. As she nestled into the covers, she felt strangely calm. Soon, her eyelashes fluttered involuntarily and she was asleep again.

* * *

"So, when are you going to tell her?"

The question that came out of Howard's mouth was certainly unexpected. Steve turned his head to look at him, noticing a grin on his face.

"Tell her what, exactly?" Steve answered, sipping his coffee from the tin mug. They were sitting alone in the dining room – Peggy had to attend a meeting with the command, while Jarvis and Dugan headed out to town to grab some food and drinks for the evening.

"That you love her." Howard said, his expression deadly serious.

Steve froze for a second, before starting to cough out the coffee that somehow got to his throat. After a while he stopped, gasping for breath.

Howard chuckled.

"That's not funny." Steve said, his voice slightly strained.

"What? The fact that you nearly drowned because of a question or the fact that you are clueless about feelings?" Howard answered, smirking.

"I'm not clueless." Steve answered, his tone a little resigned "And she likes me as a crew member. And maybe a friend. But nothing much more than that."

When he finished, Howard stared at him in disbelief for a second, before erupting in laughter. Steve watched him curiously as he clutched his stomach and doubled down. After a while, he stopped to wipe off a few tears from his eyes.

"Oh God, Stevie." he said, breathing heavily. "I knew you would be bad at this, but this bad?"

Howard then looked at Steve, and saw that he dropped his head, drilling holes in the floor with his gaze. He quickly stood up and wrapped an arm around him.

"You know that I met Peggy before France, hell, even before Italy?"

Steve looked at him, his expression blank.

"I met her in 1940 when I was on a trip to England with my father. Her parents were fairly prominent in the society, so meeting them was a given." Howard continued. "She was slightly different from what she is now. She was more bubbly, happy and caring, especially for the people she loved. But then nearly her whole family perished in the Blitz. When I met her again, it was as if that side died with her family, or somewhere along the way."

Steve listened, with his mouth slightly agape. He only knew Peggy as a soldier and a commander. The news that she wasn't always like that, that she once was just a normal girl, probably dreaming of a wonderful life that lay ahead of her did make an impression on him.

"And what does it have to do with me?" Steve asked, curious to where Howard was leading him.

He drew a breath and tightened the grip on Steve's shoulder.

"Since you came here I saw her change a bit. I saw how she looks at you when you sleep. I see all the time how she cares about you. Steve, I'm starting to see the glimpses of Peggy that I thought died a long time ago." he said, his tone dead serious.

Steve drew a long breath. If what Howard said was true (and with the tone he used it must have been, he had never seen him this serious), then his affections for Peggy might not have been misplaced.

"Okay." Steve said. "I'll do it. But when I see fit. I don't want to rush it."

"Understandable" Howard said. "But under one condition."

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"You pick me as the best man." Howard answered, smirking. Steve responded by shoving him lightly, chuckling.

"If Peggy will be okay with that, then yes, we have a deal." Steve said, smiling for the first time since the conversation started.

Howard released his shoulder and patted him lightly on his back.

"You'll see, you'll be thanking me later." he said, walking out of the dining room.

Steve finished his coffee and stared twirling the cup in his hands. He breathed steadily as he thought of what he just heard. He slowly started to feel his cheeks heat up.

 _So there is a chance._ He thought, smiling to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Exiting the barn that served as the headquarters for the unit, Peggy felt excited. The allied offensive was supposed to continue starting the day after tomorrow, and the regiment would be leading the charge. While Peggy always knew the risks involved, she thought it would be a nice change of pace from sitting around doing nothing important. The rest of the crew would probably have more mixed feelings – while they all knew what they were signing up for, the blissful atmosphere of the pause in fighting was sure to leave an imprint on their feelings. Right now, however, Peggy was more occupied with the set of orders she was given at the briefing. While proper combat never failed to send a shiver down her spine, the planning aspect was one of the things she cherished every time. Looking at maps, sketching all the possible avenues of assault and playing out the possible outcomes in her head was always both thrilling and entertaining.

So caught up in the planning Peggy was, that she suddenly bumped into someone, dropping her clipboard on the paved road. Muttering a quiet "Sorry.", she picked it up and level her gaze at the person she collided with, only to see it was Jarvis himself.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Carter, I didn't see you coming." he said, his tone slightly fearful.

"It's nothing, Mr. Jarvis, I should have focused more on the road than the new orders." she answered, gingerly.

"Any news then?" he continued.

"Yes." she replied, keeping her tone neutral. "We are to move back to the front the day after tomorrow. Afterwards, we are to attack towards St. Lô to break out of Normandy. At least that's the rough outline."

For a moment, Peggy thought she saw hints of sadness in Jarvis's eyes. It went away quickly, however, as he replied in a neutral tone

"Well, I would be lying if I said I will be missing the piece and quiet the current lodgings offered us. But, if duty calls then we shall answer."

"Correct, Mr. Jarvis" she answered, with a faint smirk on her lips. "And how was your hunt for this evenings supper and drink?"

Jarvis grinned.

"The fact that Corporal Rogers does not smoke turned out to be a big asset while acquiring the needed supplies." he replied as he untied the flap of his backpack and lifted it slightly.

Peggy turned her head to get a better view. Inside were a few bottles, apples, bread, some meat and a few carrots. Enough to feed them all, and with a few to spare. She smiled fondly before speaking again.

"Marvelous work Mr. Jarvis. Now, let's go back to the rest, shall we?"

"Of course, Ms. Carter." he replied.

They started to walk towards the house. Soon, Peggy was again focused on her thoughts, before Jarvis interrupted her again.

"I'm sure the rest will be fairly pleased to see us return. Especially Corporal Rogers..."

Peggy turned her head to face him and stopped, her expression quizzical.

"Mr. Jarvis, are you trying to insinuate something?"

"It's just it really is not hard to notice that both of you do seem to be affected towards each other." he continued, his voice trembling slightly.

"I can assure you, Mr. Jarvis, the relation I have with Ste-... Corporal Rogers is merely the one of professional matter." she replied, her tone official.

She started to walk again, but then Jarvis spoke again.

"Judging by the way you looked at his sketchbook I would not be so sure of that."

She turned around immediately, with a shocked expression on her face.

"You spied on me last night?!" she exclaimed, nearly shouting.

"I had trouble falling asleep, so I saw you in that particular moment. It was rude of me, yes." he said, his tone even more subdued.

"I was simply checking if it was damaged." she said, her tone more neutral.

"And blushed." Jarvis added, almost immediately.

"I beg your pardon?" Peggy asked, getting more and more annoyed by the second.

"You blushed." Jarvis repeated. "Quite visibly so, if I may add."

"Mr. Jarvis, when was the last time someone punched you in the face?" she replied, completely deadpan, with hands on her hips.

His gaze quickly shifted to his shoes as he fell silent.

"Well then. Let's go, shall we?" she continued, strolling confidently forwards.

"I do still think you should talk to him, at the very least." he said.

"That I will, in due time, on my own volition." she replied, pausing after each phrase. She thought she saw a faint smile on Jarvis' lips, but after she blinked it wasn't there anymore. While she was still quite cross with him for spying on her, she had the feeling that he was right. She needed to have an honest talk with Steve on where they stood, but she didn't feel ready yet. Especially not considering the upcoming Allied offensive, which occupied her mind again right after she merely thought of it for a split second.

"Fair enough. I do think we should continue our march, the sun will go down soon." Jarvis replied before joining Peggy.

She nodded and continued.

* * *

The sun did go down around one hour later. After a tasty supper, Jarvis brought out the bottles, containing some locally distilled calvados.

"I managed to acquire them for the cigarettes Corporal Rogers did not need to use. So any thanks go to him." he said, smiling widely.

Steve shot everyone a sheepish grin.

"You don't smoke? Really?" Howard asked, busy with uncorking.

"No." Steve replied. "I find it kind of disgusting. Your lungs get scratchy and you smell bad."

"Fair enough." Howard contested.

"In my opinion, you should lead the first toast." Dugan chimed in, as he started to pour the alcohol into the tin cups. "If not for your smokes, we probably would still drink water."

Steve chuckled as he raised the cup. He locked eyes with Peggy for a second and felt a weird sensation coiling within his stomach. He shrugged it off quickly and cleared his throat.

"To all of us, so that we survive."

The rest nodded and downed the drinks. Steve was the last one to do so. Alcohol burned his mouth and throat as he winced and coughed once. This earned him a burst of huffed laughter from Dugan and Howard, as well as smirks from Peggy and Jarvis.

"Oh Steve." Peggy said, grinning fully now. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

Steve only smirked back. He never backed down from a challenge, and if it meant at least trying to out drink everyone else, then so be it.

* * *

As it turned out, Steve could hold his drinks pretty well, which was quite a feat for someone his size.

Better than Howard and Jarvis, for sure – Jarvis tapped out after they polished off the second bottle, and Howard followed soon after in a more exuberant fashion – by falling off the chair straight into unconsciousness, after which Peggy had to drag him onto the armchair. Dugan was holding up fairly well, but as the bottle drained he too bowed out, sprawling himself on the couch. This left only Peggy and Steve by the table, and soon Peggy was sitting next to him.

"Impressive, I must say." she said, chuckling, feeling a bit more than tipsy. "I fully expected you not to last even one bottle of this stuff."

"It's not that bad, actually." Steve replied, with a smile on his face. "And the view is even better."

She shot him a quizzical look, smirking.

"I mean it's nice to drink with a lady like you... a commander, a good commander... but also a lady." his speech slurred slightly as he became flustered.

She laughed.

"Oh, Steve, you're so cute." she said, smiling fully. "But flattery like this might actually get you somewhere." she added as she downed the cup.

He didn't respond, his head hanging low. She looked at him again and saw his cheeks redden even more than before.

"Steve, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing." he responded, slurring heavier.

"Really?" she responded, growing more concerned. "You don't seem OK."

"It's just booze, nothing more." he answered.

She acted before she thought about it. She moved her hand to his waist and pulled him closer, along with his chair. She lowered her head and whispered in his ear, her tone seductive.

"I saw your sketchbook."

His whole body suddenly tensed up, as if he was shocked by electricity. He slowly turned his head as he spoke, his voice tinged with fear.

"You did? Oh, God, I'm so sorry Peggy, I'm..."

She quickly placed a finger on his lips.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Steve. It's beautiful. I'm flattered that you find inspiration in me."

He spoke before he could control himself.

"You do more than inspire me."

She looked him right in the eyes, her expression soft. She saw fear dissipate from his view, substituted by something she couldn't yet identify.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, curious.

"I mean... it's..." he said, before sighing and tensing up even more.

"I love you, Peggy." he ended, slumping his shoulders.

Peggy looked at him for a moment with her mouth open, her expression warm and slightly surprised. Then, she lightly grabbed his chin and pulled him into a kiss.

Steve tensed again as he felt Peggy's lips on his. It only lasted for a second before he melted into her, overwhelmed by the heat, intimacy and softness. His hands shot up to her warm cheeks, embracing her and letting her lead the way. She responded by deepening it, sliding her tongue between his lips. He opened himself for her and soon could taste her fully. They remained fused like this for a while before they parted, gasping for breath. Peggy shot him a mischievous grin.

"So... does this mean..." Steve asked, still feeling a bit dizzy and uncertain.

"Yes, Steve." Peggy answered, her voice lower. "I love you too."

This time he closed the gap, kissing her in return. The roles reversed as she left him in charge, his hands gripping her cheeks and sliding towards her neck. After a while they broke away, panting heavily. Steve tied to stand up from the chair, but the alcohol finally found his way into his head as he stumbled and fell right onto Peggy. She overbalanced, not prepared, and fell down to the floor, gripping Steve and cushioning the fall for him. She quickly rolled them onto the side, so that she could face him. His gaze was unfocused and she saw that he started to drool. She sighed quietly as she pulled him tighter, closing his mouth and letting his head rest against her chest. Soon, exhaustion overwhelmed her as she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was shining through the window when Peggy woke up from her sleep. She slowly opened her eyes as she adjusted to the bright light. Nearly immediately, her senses were assaulted by a sharp pain radiating from her temples. Buzzing filled her ears as she lowered her head to the floor. Her right arm felt numb, mostly because she slept on it for the rest of the night. Peggy took a few deep breaths before opening her eyes again, gazing downwards towards her legs. There, she saw Steve. He was still asleep, his head buried in her chest, his arms looped around her waist. His hair was ruffled, standing up in all directions. She watched him for a while, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed in and out. Suddenly, she felt him wriggle a bit, as she heard an unintelligible noise, coming from his direction.

"Steve?" she asked, her voice weak and raspy. She coughed a few times, trying to overcome the dryness of her throat. After the coughing fit subsided, she looked down and saw Steve raise his head. His gaze was unfocused and his expression was pained.

"G'morning, Peggy." he croaked out, barely above a whisper. He sighed as he rolled onto his back, pulling himself out of her embrace.

"How do you feel?" she asked, wincing at the pulsing pain that seemed to crush her head.

"Terrible." he responded, lifting himself up to a sitting position. "Do we have water? My throat..."

"Yes, I'll bring it to you, I need it myself, to be honest." she responded, pushing herself up. She stood still for a second to get her bearings, before marching off into the kitchen. She returned soon, with two mugs in her hands and a first aid kit under her armpit. She placed the mugs on the table and took out the aspirin tablets from the kit. They gulped them down quickly, finally relieving some of the dryness in their throats. Both Steve and Peggy sat at the table silently for a few moments, looking right into each others' eyes. Then, Steve lowered his head, looking at the table.

"What is it?" Peggy asked, one part curious, one part concerned.

"It's about last night." he replied, still not looking at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" she prodded again, her voice quivering slightly.

"You said that you love me." he spoke again, his tone defeated. "Did you..." he paused to breathe in "...mean it?"

Peggy's mouth fell open as she felt her heart ache.

"Steve, what on earth are you talking about?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"When you drink, you sometimes say things you didn't really mean to say." Steve continued, still looking dejected and weak. "I just want to know if you only said it because..." he paused again "...you pity me." his voice broke at the end.

Peggy stood up with enough force to tip the chair over. She took a few long steps before she reached Steve. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and crashed him against her lips. The kiss was rough, bruising, with a force behind it, as Peggy swallowed his yelp of surprise. She broke just after that, still holding him at arms length.

"I may or may not sometimes do some things I later wish I didn't do when I'm drunk." she said, her voice stern "But when it comes down to things like these, I don't fool around, Steve."

She paused for a while, focusing on him. His expression was a mix of shock, fear and disbelief. She then continued, softening her tone.

"If you think I said what I said because I feel pity, you're wrong. I think you are a good and strong man, down there." she said, pointing her finger at his heart. "And I do love you, Steve, I love you for who you are, and I wouldn't have you any other way. Just know that."

Steve relaxed against her, breathing out.

"I'm sorry." he said, as a single tear traveled down his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Peggy." he repeated, before she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Don't be, darling." she whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I understand. Too many people think low of you. But I'm not them. I'll always be there for you."

He didn't respond at first, content to just stay where he was, between her strong arms, anchoring him. After a while, he raised his head, looking her right in the eyes.

"I just thought." he said, his voice thick with emotion. "After all this, I should take you dancing."

Peggy chuckled.

"Oh, of course." she said, her tone cheerful. "But I thought you can't dance."

"We can practice. Or have the band play something slow." he responded, his mood changing into a more upbeat one.

"That's a good thought." she said, before pecking him lightly on his lips.

That's when she head someone clapping in the background. Both of them turned their heads to see Howard, with a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Told you, Steve." he said, still grinning. "See?"

"Yeah, I do." he responded. "Now..."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." he answered, miming the action of zipping his lips shut. "But still, Stevie, you owe me one."

Peggy shot Steve a piercing gaze, raising her eyebrow.

"Um..." he began, before composing himself. "I made a deal with him. If he was right about us he would..." he stammered "..be the best man."

Peggy groaned loudly, rolling her eyes.

"If you seriously think I would allow that, you must be out of your mind." Peggy said, her tone annoyed.

"OK, no best man then." Howard replied, raising his hand in a gesture of mock surrender. "But how about the godfath..."

"HOWARD!" both of them yelled out simultaneously.

"Fine, fine. Jesus, you people are not fun at all." he grumbled as he left the kitchen.

When he was out, Peggy looked back at Steve.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Yeah." he answered. "But if it wasn't for him..."

"I suppose you do have a point." she said, before leaning in to kiss him again.

* * *

 **Western Germany, September 1944**

Peggy took another whiff from her cigarette as she buried herself deep into her thoughts.

The outcome of the offensive back in July stunned even her, a seasoned veteran. The Germans scurried away from France at a lightning pace, retreating to the east faster than the Allies could catch up. Right now, she was actually on German soil, while merely a month ago she was still around Paris, rounding up the marauders left behind by the escaping Wehrmacht and the SS. The spirit of optimism was high, as many predicted the war would end by Christmas. She was a bit more careful in her assessments – she knew far too well what underestimating the enemy usually meant. Somehow, her thoughts drifted back to Steve. After their first proper kiss, they knew they would have to keep their relationship a secret. This meant their feelings had to be manifested with discretion – through chaste kisses when nobody looked and mutual gazes, filled with love and affection. It hadn't progressed much beyond that, but neither of them was complaining – they reasoned they would have time for it after the war.

She snapped out of it quick. Right now was not the time to dwell on what will happen. They still had an enemy to fight, a war to win. She peeked out of the tank, scanning the camp they were stationed at right now. It wasn't much – a few tents and some barbed wire to designate the perimeter – but it was better than nothing. Suddenly, Peggy thought she saw Steve run out of a tent back towards the fuel depot. After a while, she exited the tank and moved towards there. As she got closer, she heard a loud sob coming from between the barrels of gasoline.

 _Oh no._ she thought as she raced towards the source of the sound. When she found it, she could feel her heart break.

It really was Steve. He was sitting on the ground, his legs brought up to his chest and his head hunched down, his forehead propped on the forearms. His shoulders shook as he sobbed loudly. Peggy crouched down and pulled him into a tight embrace, letting him bury his head in her shoulder. As he kept sobbing, she looked around and found a folded piece of paper laying on the ground. She reached out and picked it up, unfolding it to read it.

What she read chilled her down to the bone. She knew that type too well – a proper typewriter, with a signature of General Marshall down at the lower right corner. Addressed to Steve, informing him of the death of James Barnes near Eindhoven, merely a week ago. She grasped the paper in her hand , tightening her embrace around Steve. Soon, he stopped sobbing and looked up, his eyes red and cheeks wet from tears. She wiped the tear tracks with her thumbs.

"Steve, I'm so sorry." she said, her tone filled with emotion. "Truly."

He sniffled.

"Bucky meant a lot to me, you know." he said, his tone fluctuating. "We were inseparable. He was always there for me. And now..." he stopped, fighting back tears.

Peggy hugged him again. She stayed silent – she knew what it was like to lose someone close. She decided that showing him he had someone next to him in the time of need would speak far more volumes than words. After a while, she broke the hug to plant a kiss to his lips.

"Can you tell me about him?" she asked, her tone sincere.

"What exactly?" Steve asked, still shaken.

"Anything you want." she answered, before motioning him to sit down. She plopped down next to him, pulling him into an embrace. For the next few minutes, she let Steve talk, as he recounted the stories of his childhood and early adulthood with Bucky. Peggy rested her head on his shoulder as she listened in, captivated by the images Steve was painting for her. After a while, he stopped talking, content to sit in silence with Peggy next to him.

"Thank you." he said, calmer now. "For being here. Next to me."

"You don't have to." she responded. "I can bet you would have done the same to me were we to switch places."

"Yes." he replied, before planting a kiss on her cheek and squeezing her hand. "I'd do that."

She smiled.

* * *

 **Belgium, January 1945**

For the first time since long ago, Peggy felt scared.

She chastised herself for not being careful enough. Had she spotted that damn gun a second earlier, she probably might have done something about it. Right now, however, was not the best time to ponder on what-would-have-beens.

The tank was stationary at the middle of the road. It's engine was burning, hit by a shell. Fortunately, they all managed to evacuate quickly, and were now in a ditch by the side of the road, sheltered from enemy fire. Miraculously, no-one was even scratched. However, their situation was far from safe. Over the distant gunfire of a fortified machine gun, she heard loud voices of the Germans, pressing on towards them. They were outnumbered and their best medium of survival was now useless. Peggy clutched her Thompson tighter, when suddenly she saw Steve spring out from the ditch, running towards the tank.

"Steve, get back here!" she shouted. He kept running, ignoring her words. "Steve!"

"I'll cover you all! Run!" he shouted back as he climbed the tank and grasped the M2 machine gun. Soon, he was firing it, sending long bursts into the attacking infantry.

Peggy didn't even think twice. She ran out into the open and was soon next to the machine, firing her weapon at the Germans as well. The rest was there too, supporting her and Steve.

"Run, all of you!" he said as he reloaded. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not leaving here without you, Steve!" Peggy answered, her tone desperate as she fired another burst, feeling slightly satisfied when it connected with the intended target.

"I'll join you, just go!" he shouted back, firing again.

"No!" she shouted back, turning her head to face him.

Suddenly, she cried out as she felt a sharp pain coming from her shoulder. She fell to the ground, screaming from pain that blinded her.

"Shit, Peggy!" she heard Dugan, his voice muffled. He grabbed her by the collar of the jacked and dragged her for a moment. She then heard Steve again.

"Take her and go, I'll join you, just do it!"

She wanted to scream. She wanted to plead with him to come with them, to run too. But she couldn't, as she felt an unknown force tighten her throat. She felt tears running down her cheeks and the warmth of blood seeping out of the wounds as she gritted her teeth. Then she felt someone hoist her up over a shoulder as she heard a muffled explosion. She fought to stay conscious, drifting between sleep and staying awake. It was a battle she was losing, and soon felt her will to keep her eyes open go away. Before she closed them, there was only one thing on her mind.

 _Steve._


	9. Chapter 9

As she slowly opened her eyes, bright light flooded her vision.

 _So, is this how it is on the other side?_ she thought for a moment, before her eyes adjusted and she clearly discerned a shape of a lamp. She slowly looked down to her hand and commanded the fingers on the right hand to move. They responded immediately. She repeated the process with the left hand and both her feet, with success. Next, she tried to lift her right arm up, but she felt numbness overtake her almost instantly. Stopping for a while, she looked around to asses the surroundings.

It was, without a doubt, a hospital. She didn't not know where, but it didn't matter for now. She was surprised to see she had a whole room to herself. Opposite her, there was an armchair, and her heart swelled up when she saw Howard sleeping in it, his jacket draped over him like a makeshift blanket. Peggy tried to speak, but her voice was weak, even quieter than a whisper.

"Howard."

Somehow, he heard it, as he shot up from the armchair, looking at her. His expression turned into a smile as he crouched down near the bed.

"Hello, Peggy." he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Numb." she responded, gulping loudly. "Is there water in here?"

"Yes, one moment." Howard quickly grabbed a glass from the table next to the bed and raised it to Peggy's lips. She sipped the drink for a moment before nodding. Howard took the glass away from her.

"What happened?" she spoke again, this time a bit more loudly.

"You got shot. Two bullets to the shoulder, missed the bone, fortunately." he responded, his voice neutral. "You nearly bled out, needed a transfusion. Later, they got you here."

She stayed silent, processing what had just been said. Memories started flooding her mind. The sharp pain, the losing fight to stay conscious. Suddenly, she felt her heart ache as emotions overwhelmed her. She asked, on the verge of tears.

"Steve?"

Howard lowered his head and took a deep breath.

"We don't know."

"What?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"When we were escaping, we were to busy with you to pay attention. After we left you at the medical tent, the terrain where we left the tank was back on our side. We got there and..." he paused, taking another deep breath.

"The tank was there, burned out. But nothing more than that. He... vanished. We found no body, dog tags, any personal things. And we searched very thoroughly."

At this point, Peggy felt her heart break in two. She let out a sob as tears spilled from her eyes. Howard quickly grabbed her hand and squeezed it, offering some degree of comfort. She continued to cry for a while, before she stopped, sniffling loudly.

"If there is no body..." she spoke, her voice still thick with emotion.

"...then he still might be alive, yes." Howard filled in. "Peggy, you have to believe. Maybe he is hiding somewhere, maybe he's with another unit."

Peggy didn't have a response for this. She closed her eyes and breathed in as she prayed silently.

 _Please be alive, please, come back to me, my love_.

* * *

She was released from hospital a month later, complete with an honorable discharge and a Purple Heart to her name. She didn't want this, but Thompson was unrelenting and Dooley didn't even try to overrule him. This was a battle she couldn't win. As for the last week of her treatment she got transferred back to London, she left the rest of the boys the address to contact her in case Steve came back. It was her old studio apartment, the first proper home after she moved out from the rest of the family. As the days, weeks and then months passed by, hope diminished and sorrow started to sow it's seeds. She found herself not wanting to even get up from the bed anymore – something she would not even think about earlier. Everywhere she looked, she thought she saw him, only for it to be an illusion. Every disappointment like this felt like a knife piercing her heart, tearing it into a million pieces that could never be glued back. Her dreams were always of her trying to save him, only to watch him die. She always woke up abruptly, sweat covering her body and tears welled up in her eyes. She felt emptiness envelop her and suddenly thoughts of whether a life without Steve was even possible started to flood her mind. One night she regained momentary clarity in a drunken haze to find herself sitting cross-legged on the floor, the barrel of a Webley revolver her father used to own in her mouth, her fingers ready to squeeze the trigger. Her eyes widened as she threw the gun as far away as possible, before she collapsed onto the floor, tears spilling freely, whispering his name and pleading him to come back. She woke up the next morning, surprisingly sober and with a clear mind. She then thought what Steve would think of her now – weak, consumed by grief and sorrow. She then promised herself never to falter anymore, because Steve for sure wouldn't.

When she heard the news of the surrender, Peggy didn't even try to celebrate. For her, the war was lost when she lost Steve, so there was nothing to be proud for or happy of. Seeing other people cheer would made her heart pain even more than usual. She didn't even get out of her bed the entire day, her attention consumed by grief and the feeling of hopelessness. She felt she was sinking again, never to resurface. The next day, however, she got up early and set about her usual routine. She didn't know why, but for the first time since Steve disappeared, she felt hopeful about the future. The whiplash was unexpected, but pleasant, in a way. She still felt the lack of him, but it didn't pain her as much as it used to. At first , she chastised herself for that, but then thought about what his opinion would be. And if one thing was certain, he wouldn't want to see Peggy sad and defeated.

* * *

 **New York City, November 1945**

As she turned the lock in her door, Peggy's thoughts were already focusing on how she would spend the evening. She imagined a warm cup of tea (perfect to counteract the downpour enveloping the city) on her coffee table, and herself tucked under the blanket on her sofa, reading a book. Since her move to New York two moths ago, she slowly started to warm herself up to the city. After Howard found out how miserable she was in London, he made it his mission to make her at least content with her life again. At first, she rejected his offers, not certain whether his proposals would benefit her. However, soon, she warmed up to them and decided to move on. Outside from a cozy position in his family business and an apartment in Brooklyn, she appreciated how he treated her with respect, unlike many of her co-workers. The new possibilities the move made possible filled her with excitement for what was to come.

She quickly disposed of her wet clothes and stockings before changing into one of her nightgowns. She didn't plan to go anywhere for the night and the weather reinforced this idea. Soon, she found herself under a warm blanket, reading a book while her tea stood right where it was supposed to be. As the minutes passed, she noticed how her attention towards the book diminished, as she thought about how domestic and calm her life now was. It wasn't long before she thought how it would be if Steve was here. At the mention of his name, she could feel her emotions rise to the surface as she bit her lip and fought back the tears. She calmed herself down by breathing heavily for a few moments, before she marveled at the silence blanketing her apartment again.

That was, until someone knocked at the door.

At first, Peggy thought it was a mistake or she heard something wrong. But then the knocking sounded again, definitely coming from the other side of her door. Sighing quietly, she walked to the door, unlatching the chain, moving back the bolt and turning the key. She pressed the handle and opened the door slightly.

"Hello, who is..." she said, before she looked at the mystery person. But when she did look, she felt her throat constrict as she gasped.

Standing in front of her was a man she thought was dead long ago. In a completely soaked jacket and pants, with a bouquet of crimson roses in his hand.

"Steve?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion as she felt her cheeks dampen. She suddenly felt her legs wobble a bit, but it subsided quickly.

"Hi, Peggy." he said, his voice thick, sniffling. "Sorry I'm late."

She swung the door open and launched herself at him, pulling him into a kiss. It was rough and heated, and soon she swallowed his moan. She tasted the tears on her tongue as she broke off, panting.

"You're alive, you're back, my love." she said. "God, Steve, it's real."

"Yes, Peggy, yes." he replied, tears spilling from his eyes as well, as he ran a hand through her hair. "I'm here. To stay."

She quickly pushed him inside her apartment as she locked the door. Then, she pulled him into another kiss. It was slower than the previous one, full of love and affection. Steve kissed her back, trying to convey the same emotions to her as their hands roamed around their bodies, the bouquet left on the floor.

"I've missed you so much." Peggy said after they broke the kiss, her voice still thick with emotion. "I thought you'd never come back."

"I've missed you too." he replied, as his hands moved towards waist. "I thought we would never get that dance."

"I can teach you." she retorted. "We have all the time in he world now. But..."

"But what?" he asked, his tone tinged with fear.

"Now, I want to do this." she said as she kissed him again and her hands moved to pull the soaked jacket off of him. She quickly moved her hands to his shirt, popping his buttons quickly, not breaking the kiss. Steve moaned into her mouth again before he broke off, resting his head on her forehead.

"Peggy, what are you doing?" he asked, breathless.

"Oh, Steve." she responded, as she lowered her head and whispered in his ear. "I want to make love to you. Show you how much I love you."

She looked back into his eyes and thought she saw a fire ignite behind his irises. Then, he grabbed her flaming cheeks and kissed her. His hands moved to the belt of the robe and started to untie it, before he stopped. Peggy moved her head back, confused.

"Steve, what is it?" she asked.

"I've..." he started, before pausing for a second. "...never done this before."

He watched her face as he prepared for her response. Then, she saw her lips curve into a smile.

"Oh, darling.", she said, her tone full of love. "Let me guide you."

She fused their lips again as she popped the last few buttons and pushed his shirt from his shoulders, leaving him bare-chested. He responded immediately, untying the belt, causing the nightgown to fall of her. As they moved to the bed, lips fused and hands touching as much skin as possible, they both couldn't believe how lucky they have gotten.

* * *

As Peggy opened her eyes, the first sight immediately made her heart melt. It was Steve, asleep, but still holding her in an embrace. Her mind drifted back to the events of the night – how she delivered on her promise, how happy and eager he was to show his love to her and how good they felt together. She ran her hand through his hair as she smiled. Soon, he woke up too, and the look on his face as he made eye contact said more than a thousand words.

"Hi, Peggy." he said, his voice sleepy.

"Hello, darling." she responded, before pecking him on the forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Very good." he responded before hie kissed her lips chastely. "It wasn't a dream."

"Certainly not." she responded as she kissed him back.

They laid like this for a moment, reveling in the love they shared, before Peggy spoke again.

"You never told me how you survived." her voice quivered. "How you got here. How you found me."

"Howard." he said. "When they shipped me back, I went straight to him. He hugged me so hard when we met I thought he would crush me. After that, he gave me your address."

She didn't respond, still looking at him.

"After you got shot..." he bagen, before he swallowed and continued. "... I covered you as much as I could. I ran out of ammo, so I gave myself up. I thought they would kill me there, but they didn't. They took me away, sent to a camp somewhere in Germany. They didn't let us send letters, so I couldn't tell you I was alive. They moved us around a lot in the last month, a few times we almost got hit by our own bombers. After the surrender, the British took over the camp and processed me. I got back to the States just 4 days ago."

When he finished, he saw a tear flow out of Peggy's eye. He quickly swiped it away. She spoke, her voice happy regardless of the tears.

"I still can't believe it. I grieved you, and yet you are here."

"Miracles do happen." Steve responded, smiling.

"Indeed." she responded, as she pulled him into a slow kiss, full of promise and love.

She couldn't still believe it. She had gotten a second chance with a man she loved nearly as much as her life, who loved her as much in return.

That was a chance she was not going to waste.


End file.
